Brian37 AKA Brian James Rational Poet…… My Poetry

  • Welcome to Brian James Rational Poet’s poetry blog

    Welcome to my poetry blog. I love reading Plath and Sexton and Dickenson and Maya. But to me, the best poets I have read are the unknows. The giants are great for sure, but the friends and locals and groups are a joy to participate in. I encourage everyone who writes poetry to be themselves. It is ok to have influences, but you should always in the end be yourself. There is only one them, and only one you.

    Let words be your canvas, show them the raw you, in all your happiness and sadness. Show them your love of nature, and empathy and kindness, but also make them think, provoke, even blaspheme. The poet’s job to me, is to never be shy or timid, but use every word in your vocabulary to paint the best pictures you can. Paint your sunrises, your sunsets, your romance, your fears. Paint your insecurities, your addictions, your successes, your tears.

    This blog is dedicated to my late mother Jane. She was my biggest supporter and never let me fall through the cracks. While she was a bit of an authoritarian growing up, that all melted away in her late years, and we grew as close as any parent child could. We had so much fun with our silly car games and rubber duckies, and counting the trees. And our wordplay games, and our thumb wrestling. And forget Yahtzee and backgammon, she always kicked my…… at that. I love you mom. I miss you horribly.

    And also my late best friend ever, Bob. He unfortunately passed away in 2017. He lived in Australia, he was a science geek, and he taught me a lot about debate, and some science. I can only grasp overall concepts, not real nitty gritty details. But he most importantly made me feel comfortable in my own skin. I miss you too Bob.

    Then there is this annoying guy from Okleeee homa, who says “tators”, and “videeeaaaa” instead of “video”. And don’t get John started on banjos. He is my best friend and he is always there for me, and I love that redneck.

    And also Dwayne, Stacey and Vicki. You saved my life all of you. Thank you.

    All poetry posted by me on this website is attached to @brianrrs37, handle RationalPoet on Twitter ,as well as “Brian James Rational Poet” on Facebook/ META. And is subject to copywrite on all my pages.

    A Special thanks to Brian Sapient of Rational Responders http://www.rationalresponders.com for hosting my poetry thread for so long. Thank you.

    AND….. YOU are more than welcome to share this link on your social media. Especially Meta and Twitter, but your own social media too. Any help bringing traffic here is more than welcome. THANK YOU.

    This poetry blog may contain some material that may be considered sensitive to some viewers. Reader discretion advised.

    Now, everyone, grab your popcorn, glass of wine, and watch me make a fool of myself. Enjoy.

    HEADS UP….. THERE ARE PEOPLE MIMICKING MY TWITTER ACCOUNTS……

    I only have two Twitter accounts.

    “RationalPoet@brianrrs37”
    AND
    “Brian@rationalpoet37”

    THERE ARE MORE PAGES. WHEN YOU GET TO THE BOTTOM OF EACH PAGE, in mice print….. It says “Next Page”.

    NEW EDIT………

    If you want to leave a comment to any poem, click on the BOLD title of the poem first, scroll to the bottom of the poem, and you should see a field to leave the comment in.

     

     

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  • Empty Space

    Empty Place, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    It was a conversation
    Not a NASCAR race
    Danica talked to Neil
    About the in between space

    The area of nothingness
    Between the nucleus
    And the electrons
    The baseball diamond

    One could imagine
    A pea on the infield
    Between the pitchers mound
    And third base

    Particles pass through
    Everything every day
    Ernst Rutherford
    Shocked to his dismay

    He took gold foil
    And bombarded it
    With particles to see
    How many would stick

    How many would stay
    Most went through
    He had to conclude
    That things are not as solid

    As we like to think
    Now ponder this
    Amazing fact
    If of our body atoms

    All gaps did lack
    And all that was left
    Was just the matter
    No empty space

    For anything to pass
    If you took all humans
    Today, and shrunk them down
    With out the gaps

    It may shock you
    To know this
    We’d all fit into
    The size of a peach.
    (end)

    I was just watching a video of former NASCAR driver Danica Patrick interviewing Neil deGrasse Tyson on general science matters. I was already freaked out long ago, before watching this, that a particle called “neutrino” is so small it can pass through an entire planet without hitting anything. And neutrinos are passing through your body right now as you read this. That was already pleasantly blowing my mind.

    But then he tells about this physicist Ernest Rutherford who conducted an experiment where he bombarded a extremely thin slice of gold foil to see how many particles would stick and how many would pass through. To his shock it turned out that most of the particles were passing through.

    So that made the scientific community aware that even within our own bodies most of the space between our atoms, and between our electrons and nuclei is empty. So if you eliminated all the gaps, and just left matter, in all the atoms of all the humans you could shrink our entire population down to the size of an peach. LET THAT SINK IN!

    Here is the link to that Ernest Rutherford experiment.

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geiger%E2%80%93Marsden_experiments

    And here is a link to the YouTube video.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JxV92NPNy8o

    I think he said apple but still, the point is there is still far more empty in our bodies, and even in the universe than there is matter.



  • Tick Tock

    Tick Tock, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I cant find slumber
    At this overnight hour
    Tick tock
    The time devores

    Wait a second insomnia
    The pillow my enemy
    The tv
    Incumbers

    The late night comics
    Usually put me under
    The anticipation
    Does not hinder

    It’s a minute
    Then another
    I toss and toss
    Over and over

    Those wool carriers
    Are of no help
    Fleece time from me
    No recovery

    My cats both asleep
    Dreaming of pouncing
    Tick tock
    The clock denouncing

    Pacing on
    Relentlessly
    I’m jealous
    Of their serenity

    Curled up
    Side by side
    Of my desire
    The clock wont abide

    At least they’ll rest
    And wake up fresh
    Tick tock
    This night’s a mess.
    (end)

    An obvious poem about my insomnia. I look at my cats in peaceful bliss and am jealous. Usually by trying to deliberately stay up for the late night shows I fall asleep and miss them because I am trying to stay awake, if that makes sense. But sometimes that does not work, and I end up not being able to sleep at all, but not because of the tv or anything, but anxiety for feeling stupid or feelings of being judged, even if irrational, keep me awake.

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  • Assuage

    Assuage, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    The specter of shadows
    The scrutiny of others
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    It slithers around
    In my brain
    Gripping my attention
    I can’t assuage

    The needless distraction
    The trap has sprung
    The planted doubt
    Claims to have won

    It pesters me gleefully
    In my brain seemingly
    Gripping my attention
    I can’t assuage

    I can’t manage
    The random thoughts
    I don’t want them
    To cause more doubt

    The specter of shadows
    The scrutiny of others
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    Landmine garden
    I’ve grown so well
    Pestering thoughts
    On such I dwell

    I fashion a maze
    Without a pause
    I cant assuage
    The root cause

    I want it to go
    But it just grows
    The worry consumes me
    The anxiety smothers

    I try to convince myself
    I can put these feelings
    On a shelf, but they keep crawling
    On my bookshelf

    Go away, turn the page
    Stop pestering me
    Anxiety, let me assuage
    Let me breath, if only a day.

    You are the gnat
    Buzzing around in my head
    Go away
    I want you dead.
    (end)

    Sometimes I dwell in my anxiety, and it just pesters me, it is hard to shed sometimes. And the logical side of my brain knows I am blowing things out of proportion, but I have had anxiety issues my entire life, and I have to accept it will aways phase in and out, and can only be something I can manage, not cure. It usually goes away after a while, but it is frustrating when it is happening.

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  • You Don’t Have To Be

    You Don’t Have To Be, By Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Jeni,
    You don’t have to be
    Jerry Seinfeld

    Richard,
    You don’t have to be
    Dickenson

    Her wise words
    About living under
    The microscope of fame

    Your sitcom did not gain
    You were somebody
    Before you got sold that game

    That if you fail
    You are worth less
    If you fail

    You are worthless
    You didn’t try
    Didn’t try your best

    Yes you did
    You made me laugh
    At my time of despair

    On a dark path
    It snapped me out
    I came about

    You had the talent
    You had the art
    You were there for me

    Before I fell apart
    You didn’t get that start
    But that is ok

    You didn’t have to
    End your life that way
    I wish you had chosen to stay.
    (end)

    This poem is an ode to the not well known comedian Richard Jeni. Unfortunately he got depressed because his career did not take off like he wanted it to. His sitcom got cancelled and that pushed him over the edge. He will never know how he snapped me out of a deep depression after a woman broke up with me because of his “Love Songs” act. He was a great comedian, and if he had only been able to do bars or local his entire life, he still would have been a great comedian.

    Emily Dickinson also wrote a poem “I Am Nobody, Who Are You”, a very short two stanza poem about the drudges and downside of being in the spotlight.

    The most important thing to me is mental health, go for what you want in life, who knows. But also know that the higher up you go the fewer spots there are. And there are far more talented unknows who will never be nationally/internationally known than the ones you know.

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  • Not a poem, but because of recent events.

    I am not talking about any specific person when I say this. My cell is cheap, I have the minimum $35 dollar plan. When I use my home wifi as a hot spot to avoid throttling back on my phone, if I am in a voice space for over an hour the quality of keeping up with the room declines. Sometimes my buttons lock up on my screen, and it can seem like nobody is talking when they are. But I highly suspect it was more than my cell phone acting up on me.

    I think in this one instance my opinion of life got me in trouble and not the actual unintended interruptions. I am an atheist, and I make no apologies for it. Many of my poems are skeptical and it isn’t designed to say believers are evil, but only to say, “have you considered this”? I think most human beings are good, I simply don’t think anyone needs a deity to do good or be good.

    And as far as getting rich and famous of of writing poetry, that is rare, and while not impossible, it will not happen for most. That is not being negative or pessimistic. If a writer gets on the map I am always happy for them. But at the same time, I do not want to see someone dive into a deep depression, or gain an addiction, or commit suicide if they do not reach that goal. The competition simply does not allow everyone to be on top all at the same time.

    I take this very personally because my favorite comedian, who never rose to Jerry Seinfeld fame, Richard Jeni, committed suicide because his short lived sitcom “Platypus Man” got cancelled. He was a very funny guy, but even as a standup road comic, he could have had a lifetime living even without becoming the level of Seinfeld.

    Whoopie Goldberg said on “Inside The Actor’s Studio” when a student in the audience asked, “Will I sit where you are sitting someday?”. Her rightful response was, “You are all capable of being great actors, but most of you, if not all of you, will not sit where I am sitting”, meaning they would not rise to her national/international fame.

    If an artist, musician, sports player, business person, anything, wants to shoot for the brass ring, by all means, try. But the top of the top, the people we know nationally and internationally, are outnumbered by the unknows. Not because they don’t try, or because they are bad. But because the competition is fierce.

    I simply do not want to see good people end up depressed or suicidal because they did not get to the top. It is a very rare place to get. As a poet, I read many people that will never be famous, who deserve it, who could rival Plath and Dickenson and others you know. It may be your dream to make it big, but you still have to be grounded in the math of odds if you want to remain mentally healthy. All art must always be done first, for the love it, not the money, not the fame. I will not apologize for saying that.

  • School Of Piranha

    School Of Piranha, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I was that Carl with the pizza face
    I could never have a Blair
    She was out of my class

    The girls weren’t nice
    The jocks were worse
    I hated my teen years

    It was a curse
    I never fit in
    I never looked right

    I was easy work
    If I got in a fight
    I always had to

    Run and hide
    I had no best friend
    By my side

    I was a minnow
    In a school of sharks
    I felt invisible

    I lived in the dark
    A school of piranha
    Made it’s mark

    I don’t want to go back
    Lived under attack
    The school of piranhas

    Cut me no slack.
    (end)

    This is an ode poem to a particular episode of “The Facts Of Life” that hit close to home for me. In Season 3 Episode 20, “Kids Can Be Cruel” The jocks pick on a character named Carl who is wimpy looking and has a bad complexion. I was that guy, except his character was actually more educated and smarter than me as implied by the script by comparison. His character knew about famous abstract artists like Picasso, I didn’t know shit about art back then. I was simply scared and wimpy and felt dumb all the time.

    And I longed for a good looking girlfriend at the time. But girls were not attracted to me. I look back at that now, and the truth is, I did blow off one girl who liked me because everyone was teasing her and me about our relationship, and I was too scared to stand up to anyone. I was an easy fight, you could knock me over with that “feather” as skinny as I was.

    “School Of Piranha” is what Ms Garrett called the kids after discovering how they had treated Carl, thus the title of the poem.

    I will say to the writers credit, it was a lesson on how not to be a bully be kinder to others. My childhood sucked, my teen years sucked. I am lucky that I no longer have to live in that kind of isolation and fear. But every generation has those asshole bullies and they honestly do not know the damage they cause and that is something someone can carry throughout their entire lives.


  • I Am

    I Am, By Brian37(AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    I am Monroe
    From that San Francisco
    Home

    I am Steve
    Carl
    Got no reprieve

    I am Skippy
    Could never woo
    Malory

    I am Vera
    I worked in
    A diner

    I am Penny
    Of questions
    I don’t get many

    I am Furley
    Lonna ran from
    In a hurry

    I am Maxwell
    I want 99
    But accident inclined

    I am Aunt Clara
    Never gets it right
    My magic such a fright

    I am only Bosley
    Never get a Kelly
    Never get a Jill

    For I am really clumsy
    I am always awkward
    At any given party

    In school
    I never played
    Any sport at all

    If on my street
    I’d be the last
    The guys would call

    I couldn’t carry a tune
    I could sing a note
    I sounded like a strangled cat

    Had gotten stuck in my throat
    I didn’t move up
    The economic ladder

    In my head
    Far too much
    I listened to the clatter

    The cacophony
    Of everybody
    Imposing on me

    Their judgment
    Of what they thought
    I should be

    Now that I am older
    Now that I am retired
    I am no longer mired

    In the whims of others
    I am not bothered
    By their banter

    I am Monroe
    I am Steve
    I am Skippy

    And I am happy
    I am Vera
    I am Penny

    And I am happy
    I am Furley
    I am Maxwell

    And I am happy
    I am Aunt Clara
    I am Bosley

    And you can accept me
    The way that I am
    If that is not good enough

    I don’t give a damn.
    (end)

    I am not going to give too much of this poem away. This poem mentions several TV characters in mostly sitcoms, but basically the not so beautiful people, the dorky people, the awkward people, the ordinary people. If you want to guess which shows I am taking about, please do.

    But it also sums up my childhood, and teens and even my early 20s. I still to this day feel out of place somewhat. Not in the same way, but far more accepting of being myself rather than trying to fit in. As the Huey Lewis song goes, “Hip To Be Square”.

    To leave a comment, on this poem, or any poem, click on the BIG BOLD title at the top of the poem. The poem will re appear but then when you scroll to the bottom you should se a “comment” box to submit a comment.





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  • Kooka Pie

    Kooka Pie, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Kookaburra,
    Kookaburra
    Chimpanzee,
    How does that laughing
    Scream out of thee?

    Kookaburra
    Kookaburra
    Cry cry cry
    In a Brisbane morning
    I watched you fly

    Then at lunchtime
    I went out to dine
    I thought a lamb burger
    Would be just fine
    Then this black and white bird

    Had on it’s it’s mind
    After the fries
    I had on the side
    It cared not that
    I was there

    That pestering magpie
    Not the least was scared
    In the land down under
    These birds are unique
    And dare.
    (end)

    Kookaburras are my favorite birds in the world. Many people think they sound like they are laughing, but to me they sound like they are screaming in anger.

    Magpies are fearless and if you are eating outside, do not take your eyes of your food for one nanosecond. They do not care if you are there. They will get right up next to your food on the table when you turn your head for a second. They are fast too.


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  • Sepia Rust

    Sepia Rust, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    Faded images of days past
    Flash powder, black cloth
    Draped over, bent over
    The photographer

    And the subject suspended
    In repose, not dead at the time
    Quite live like a ghost
    In Victorian chair, in military cloths

    Horse and buggy
    Antique rails
    In the harbor
    The steam ship sails

    Handlebar mustache
    Top hat, monocle
    Bonnie and Clyde
    Penny farthing bicycle

    In Antietam
    The body’s lay
    Tom Sharky
    Wyatt Earp’s say

    C-5527
    Eastern State
    Capone housed in
    Leon Czolgoaz

    Did McKinley in
    Harry Houdini
    Escaped at whim
    Maye West tempted men

    Kodaks imprint
    Way back then
    Sepia rusts
    And always wins.
    (end)

    This poem is an mish mosh of history in photography for the faded photographs of the 19th and early 20th centuries.

    The words “in repose” do not literally mean lying in death for review, but in that old photographs capture the dead, and give them life in the photograph.

    An aside, I did not know that famed Wyatt Earp once refereed a boxing match between Bob Fitzsimmons and Tom Sharky in 1896. I actually stumbled on this fact watching an old episode of the 80s detective show Simon & Simon where the character Rick called into a radio show to answer a sports related question to win money. I paused the dvd to see if “Tom Sharky” was a real person or simply made up in the script, turned out he was a real boxer, when I googled the name. But what I did not know was that Wyatt Earp officiate the match.

    “C-5527” I have to admit based on the photo may actually be “C-3327” I cant understand the font of the numbers. Anyway, it is one of those Police/Prison processing photos where they make the incarcerated wear a plaque with the number of their processing. That was of Al Capone in Philadelphia when he was arrested for illegally carrying a revolver. Processed at Eastern State Penitentiary.

    “Leon Czolgoaz” was the assassin of President William McKinley.

    “Penny farthing” is a type of bicycle with that really giant front wheel and a tiny rear wheel.





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  • False Favor

    False Favor, By Brian37 (AKA Brian James Rational Poet on FB/META and @Brianrrs37 on Twitter)

    To gain favor
    To gain numbers
    To gain followers
    On falsehoods

    Can produce success
    Safety in increased populous
    More opportunity
    Access to resources

    To foster reproduction
    And to believe these falsehoods
    In honest heart, to be true
    Or be of sly malevolence

    Important is the relevance
    Not to blind obedience
    Not appeal to popularity
    Or appeal to authority

    This tower of power
    Built on conformity
    Is the weakest of foundation
    Surely lacks of reason

    That has been said of absurdity
    To believe in such, can lead
    To atrocities, it is of Jim Jones
    Of Marshall Applewhite

    Braun am Inn
    Austria is where it began
    A vile disgusting man
    Took Germany off the cliff

    The world on the precipice
    Of of the access powers grift
    Their masses all ignorant
    Promises they all wanted

    To be granted superiority
    Aggrieved is to be justified
    Even though madness their pride
    Scapegoat others is the tried

    To the autocrat they abide
    Of such nations, oppression arise
    To forgo scrutiny, should not surprise
    Unwanted outcome in shackles you lie

    False favor, is that of a Don
    This thing of ours, to never question
    Is to be future kindling, burning
    Dying from your own blindness.
    (end)

    Empathetic and and humanistic leadership, is not afraid of scrutiny. False favor is lying to gain support knowing it is just fostering conformity for selfish benefit. It isn’t a matter of saying “Brian, all politicians lie”. That part is true. But the truly dangerous lies are the ones that sew distrust in our institutions and otherism to the point of oppression and violence.

    False favor is how death cults get started. False favor is how dictatorships and autocracies and theocracies arise and maintain power. Scrutiny and oversight are the only weapons against the collapse of an open democratic society.

    To blindly follow is dangerous. It is how Jim Jones and Marshall Applewhite and Charles Manson were successful in gaining their false favor, at cost of the fleeced who bought their vile crap. And the same can be said of the big monsters Hitler and Stalin and the Kim family of North Korea.

    Vigilance, not paranoia, but observing and verifying and scrutinizing are the best weapons against societal demise.



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